


Release

by cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Community: smut_fest, Cunnilingus, Demons, F/F, Face Sitting, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Apocalypse, Public Sex, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing but survival, and a Whisperer threatens that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smut_fest with the prompt: "The Four Horsemen have heralded the end, and the war between Heaven and Hell came and went. Earth is left ruined in its wake. Angels and demons roam the world. A woman falls in love with an angel, but at what cost? What does the angel stand to lose if she gives into temptation?"
> 
> Warning: Mentions of rape.

The Whisperer appeared at night. She walked, and the sound of her black boots on the charred, unrecovered earth punctuated the silence that descended with each step she took. We watched her pass through the shantytown through the scopes of our weapons. The cookfires made the air hazy; the moon stood broken in the sky. Some that had survived said as much, anyway. They said it had been a silver disc that lit the night at its fullest. There wasn’t much that could be called a disc now. 

“We could shoot it now and have done with it.”

I snorted. “They don’t die like that.” Castor was a halfling, and he knew better than to shoot. It was stupid to have him on night duty with his almost white hair, and he couldn’t hide the partial translucency of his skin. But he was a halfling, and I didn’t have any say.

“No, but it couldn’t hurt to start the process, have a little fun.”

He couldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Your father wouldn’t like it.” Careful of my weapon, I got off of my belly. There was no point in brushing the dirt off of my clothes; they were filthy anyway. The scorched earth crumbled slightly under my feet. It had been the same with snow in the places covered in ice—at least that how I remembered it from when I was little, from before I ended up here. 

“What are you doing?

“I’m taking her in, you idiot. The last thing we fucking need is someone accosting a Whisperer in the middle of the night.”

“How do you know that’s what it is?”

“I just know.” Seraphim and the rest of them just didn’t show up walking into a an encampment. The didn’t even leave the City now. They didn’t bother to take human form, hide their wings, their blinding light or whatever it was they had. No human being or halfling would just walk into a camp alone, no gear or protection, like this woman did. So she had to be. 

Whisperers watch what was left of us. No one knows how many camps there are. Going far is stupid; it wasn’t like when I was a child, where so many people were running, trying to find a place that wasn’t sinking or erupting or worse than dead. There weren’t enough of us, and it would be stupid to go out alone for no reason. 

To one side of us there’s a sea crusted with blood and dead things and things worse than that. Who knows what’s on the other side of it. And then there are the hills of hard earth and ash, and the rest isn’t remarkable in that it’s just as destroyed as anything else. Whisperers probably don’t even notice it, and they bring horsemen, who care even less. No one knows when or why. Some say it’s when there are too many people outside the City. I don’t think anyone remembers when they rode together, but they say the four started it all.

I scrambled down from the tower of rock and refuse, and I could hear Castor at my heels. The little bastard was nimbler and quieter about it. If we hurried, we could head her off, so I began to jog. It just reminded me that the soles of my shoes were too thin. Castor ran beside me. Halflings didn’t have wings, but the way they moved was distinctive; it wasn’t quite human, but it wasn’t graceful enough to be animal. He would probably fuck this up.

We waited where the dusty track gave way too patches of broken gravel. I leveled my rifle where I guessed her head would appear. She looked human enough at first, but as she came closer, she started to transform. Her flesh went from from pink to pale silver-blue and her dark hair took on a silvery glow that was something other than the firelight. Last, her great, black wings unfolded from nowhere and with them came a wind that cut the night’s chill. 

“Stop right there, Whisperer.” I clenched my jaw, half expecting hr to keep coming. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

Fucking Castor. I clenched my jaw tighter, but she barely gave him a glance. He was some kind of unholy abomination by her book, anyway. She focused on me, and this time, I could see straight into her eyes. They were like ice—ice driving into every part of me. But I wasn’t going to look away. 

“Take me to the demon.” Her voice was so strangely hollow—neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

I flicked my eyes to Castor. For all of his bravado, he knew as well as I did that this could be serious. He shifted, and I jerked my head in the direction the Whisperer was already going. “This way.”

Castor fell in behind her, and we walked in a line. I’d never been so close to an angel, and really I’d never seen one so still. They were fast and bright, and they came with flame and some kind of vengeance for everything in their path. The Whisperer didn’t bring with her the smell of burning flesh…not yet at least. But I could still almost catch it burning through my nostrils into the back of my throat.

I’d seen people burn slowly, and I’d seen others swallowed in flame in a matter of seconds. The worst was seeing people torn apart by the unseen energy angels and demons used against each other. It was common when I was a child but less and less now. People in the City weren’t exposed to anything like that; the rest of us took our chances or found protection with the demons that were left. 

Awyhere the world was raws we got closer to the center of the encampment, tents turned to crumbling walls and rubble. But the smell of smoke was thicker, and so was the noise. This was our city for as long as it could sustain us. But it seemed like every year there were more and more halflings and fewer of the rest of us. I nodded at one of the sentries when we reached the entrance to what we all called the Pit. 

This might have been something once, perhaps a city. I remember seeing one from a distance once, but here, there was nothing to dot a horizon. We had walked through ruin, but it was enough to protect from the toxic sea wind. The Pit was different, though. The slope was subtle at first, but I chose my steps more carefully as it became steeper. Twisted metal, half melted, from some long rusted machine glinted in the torchlight. It lined the passage down, the parts that weren’t buried, at least. 

Laughter and lamplight came from one of the corridors that branched away from us. Barracks—only small, makeshift rooms along a long corridor, half caved in at places, but that was a luxury that those of us who kept watched, hunted, fought when needed were given. I kept walking down where the underground space opened to a large room leading to other long corridors. The air was hazy with smoke, but the firelight reflected off of a long wall, half covered in chipped, dirty tiles. 

“What’s this then?” The voice filled the space, but I had been expecting it. I kept walking, picking my way through halflings and humans alike until I could see the dais. Gremory sat above all else on a narrow wooden chair, his arms resting on curved armrests. He was an ancient demon and beautiful still, despite his wrinkled, shimmering skin. For a moment, I caught his eyes, deepset and even more deeply blue. I kept my back straight but lowered my eyes. 

“And what have you brought here into my den? A lamb, vicious creatures that they are. This is not one of us.” He leaned forward, teeth shining as he smiled. “How long has it been since I’ve had a lamb to slaughter.”

I felt a rush of air as the angel stepped past me. I felt how tense the room had become, when I hadn’t felt it the moment we stepped in. I could see the silver tips on the Whisperer’s black wings.

“Show more courtesy, brother.”

When Gremory stood, I stepped back to Castor’s side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a younger demon, his wings thin and webbed like one of the bats roosting in the dark above us, snarl at the Whisperer. But Gremory maintained a stony silence as he stepped close to her.

His golden-white hair hung past his shoulders, but it did not cover the scars below them. He did not hide his ancient wounds, stumps that had once been great wings. As I understood it, few demons could boast of such wings as he once had. Centuries had made them different than their celestial counterparts. 

“Courtesy? I would show you the courtesy of nailing you up by those pretty wings and raping you myself.” He grinned. “You dare call me brother when you were never cast down.” He scoffed as he slowly circled her. “You are no sister of mine, Whisperer. Now state your business.”

Castor was stiff with tension beside me. I knew he would kill her in a moment if he could. But halflings were only so strong, and those with the purest blood had rules between themselves that we could never understand. 

“I am here.” She said it like it was a revelation, and it fell on the room that way. Only Gremory, and perhaps the lesser demons about, could really know what she meant. He pursed his lips and turned to the dias, flashing his scars. 

“Find her a place,” he said, voice booming again. The echo did not cover the gasps and grumbles. “There is to be amnesty in this court. For now.”

As he sat back down, I felt his eyes on me again. I wished I’d fallen back while they spoke, gone back to my post. There was nothing about this that could end well, and I didn’t want to be a part of it. But Gremory’s gaze was on me, and he was seeing beyond me. I swallowed.

“Girl. Come here.” The room was still quiet, and as I stepped forward, he swept his gaze over all gathered there. Instantly, it filled with noise and discord—the way it had been when I arrived. This conversation was not for everyone. 

When I stepped close, he leaned down and touched my cheek. His hands were big. They were strong hands and almost human. But she could see the outlines of golden bones through his translucent skin. 

“You were a child when you came to me. Little Astrid.” He chuckled warmly. “I remember. The wild girl with the burns on her heels.”

He meant the scars on the backs of my legs, burns from the flames the killed my grandmother. We were running. We were always running, and it was by my own will rather than some sort of grace that I was one of the ones who made it here. Were it not for my grandfather I would have burned, but were it not for demons, I would have died. This world is one without much pity or much currency.

“Licked by flames.” He grinned and grinned widely. And I felt like I could see my past in his eyes as though he was seeing it before him. The first time I had seen him, he was a beautiful woman who carried me in his arms. I didn’t know why I remembered that so suddenly. “You will do something for me.”

“What can I do about a Whisperer?”

“Smart girl.” He leaned closer, and underneath the sweetness of his breath, there was something almost foul. “And pretty.”

I hardly thought of myself that way; there was little point in trying. I saw myself in his eyes—dark hair kept short, dark eyes, and sun baked skin. There was always a shock to seeing my reflection; it was the kind of thing no one needed. 

“Do you know what happens to angels that taste flesh?” The way he said the word—flesh—I understood he wanted me to fuck her. I shook my head. But it didn’t matter that I didn’t know what happened or why. I had been given a task. “You’ll do well, girl.”

“That’s all.” He smirked. “Don’t take too long.”

When he leaned back, it was as if I could hear the sounds of the room again. And Gremory’s attention was no longer on me. I gave a half bow for the sake of propriety that he insisted upon but ignored, and I turned on my heel. To my left, a halfling moaned as a human pushed his cock into her. She had her tail—she was obviously the child of a younger, lesser demon—wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was in silent ecstasy. To my right, others were crouched over a game of dice. The room was full of much of the same, and the Whisperer was no longer there.

I stepped over a writhing couple and threaded my way through others to a small passage. It was a stairway, though the steps were beginning to crumble. It led up to a room that might have been larger saved for the rubble that closed it in. It was quiet in there—a heavy quiet. I’d always liked that about it. Side by side on the floor lay the dreamers. 

Many demons drew strength on desires, indulgences. They thrived on fear and hate and passion and every other excess. No torch burned here, but I could see the shadows of their forms in the light that filtered up the stairs. They were not sleeping. They asked for this—permanent visions of desires long past, of a better life. Everyone was different. 

It was an escape. For others, it was a punishment. Either way, the demons benefitted until a dreamer wasted away. But there were always more. They made me feel the dirt in my pores and the sweat sticking to my back. They made me remember that the smoke stung my eyes because this is what I had.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

I shivered at the voice. Ez sounded like her father—authoritative and charming—but her voice was soft, husky. She put her hands on my shoulders from behind and pressed herself into me. I sighed, pressing back, realizing the amount of tension I was holding in my muscles.

“Did you? I told you I’d be on duty tonight.”

She laughed, lips brushing my earlobe. “You bring a Whisperer into the Pit and expect me not to hear about it? Come now, Astrid.” She tugged slightly and I turned in her arms. Ezra’s skin was pale gold, and it drew the little bit of light with it. Her eyes were large and round, pupils slitted through the center of golden irises. She was neither full demon nor halfling, and there were only a few like her.

“I know what he asks you to do.”

“He doesn’t ask,” I said. Neither did Ez. She decided she wanted me, and it was my luck that I enjoyed her just as much. It was unlucky, though, that she guarded what she considered hers jealously. “And you know I can’t refuse.”

“It’s for the good of all.” And it was. But the way she shoved me deeper into the room suggested just how she felt about the fact that she couldn’t refuse for me.

“Not here.”

“Here. I want you here.” In my quiet place. Of course. She pushed my jacket apart to push it off, but I pushed back against her hands. “Now then…” She clucked softly, but she was probably grinning. I couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but I knew her well enough.

I let my jack drop, and it fell heavily. Ez was naked. I didn’t have to see her to know her body. It was beautiful, muscles hidden under soft fleshed skin and gold with deep bronze nipples. The hair between her legs was bronze too. She looked beautifully well-fed, like someone who knew no hardship.

“Ez, no here. It’s strange.”

“You like it.” She pushed her hands under my shirt, and I pulled it off, smelling my own sweat. And she kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth before I could protest again. I pushed into it, into her, and I was already wet. Ez ran her hands up my back, dragging her nails, always just a bit too hard. I sighed, shivering, wanting to feel her nails biting into my skin enough to draw blood. But she held back. 

“Will you do this to it?” She asked as she pulled back to pinch my nipples. “Will you make it moan?”

I pressed into her hands and kissed underneath her ear. She was always so warm, like a perpetual fever burned inside of her. “Does it matter?”

“Not in the end.” I held her hips as she undid my pants. I couldn’t step out of my boots, and Ez didn’t care. She pushed me back onto my jacket. “Do you know what happens to them?” Ez straddled me; she wasn’t interested in an answer. As she lowered herself onto my face, I breathed her scent, tasting her before I tasted her. And she lingered, letting me breath it in. “When they taste the flesh,” she said, sighing deeply as I ran my tongue up her slit, “they know what true pleasure is.”

True pleasure. Ezra tasted tart and salty; she was a feast. I pushed my tongue into her, hungry, and I dug my fingers into her hips. I could not make her bleed, but I didn’t want her blood. I wanted her flesh, to feel her flesh, to have it fully. 

“But they aren’t made for pleasure, and all the things they feel…” She moaned, pressing into my mouth as I found her clit with my tongue. “All the things they feel… All the things you will make her feel will slowly kill her.” I lapped at her clit, greedy for it, desperate for her orgasm. “Those pretty feathers…those pretty…” I could feel her body move as her chest heaved. “Black…” She threw her head back, taking a sharp breath. “Feathers. Will fall…fall one…by…one…” And she came quickly, shaking and violent for a moment before falling back, her body against my chest.

I listened to her breathing in the darkness as it slowed. And then she rolled off of me. She ran her finger up my slit, and I shuddered a she pulled her touch away. But she was standing before I could pull her back. 

“You’d better get to it, then.” She laughed playfully. And as she paused in the stairway, I could see her sucking her fingertip. There would be no flesh for me that night.

There was little point in going back to my patrol, and now that Ezra had what she wanted, my bed wouldn’t be warmed. It wasn’t hard to find where they had taken the Whisperer. The news had begun to spread, and once it got out of the Pit, there would be hysteria. No one wanted another plague or a sweep of fire and brimstone. No one wanted to run again. 

I found her in one of the rooms, and I wondered briefly if she slept. But she was standing, as if waiting for me.

“Why have you come here, Whisperer?”

How did one seduce an angel? Her gaze made me feel as if I would die of cold. Yet I was given this task—a task that might be impossible for all I knew. Was it because I had captivated his favorite daughter for the time being? Ezra was incidental; I knew that. We all owed debts.

“You’re afraid.” She changed; in a blink she was fair, her dark hair falling over slim shoulders. She seemed so human. 

I pushed past her and leaned against one of the stone walls. “You’ll bring death. You’ll bring one of them, and maybe a few will repent, but is that worth killing us all?”

Her illusion fell, and I realized that the sight of those pale eyes and feathered wings unnerved me less than the farce. “You chose this, rather than faith, rather than the sanctity of the City.”

“There’s no comfort in fire and destruction.” 

The Whisperer stepped closer to me. “And are you the only wanderers, then?”

I blinked, but I shook any thoughts away before they could take root. “Angels don’t wander. They fall.”

When the Whisperer smiled, I looked away. My chest burned as if I’d gulped too much cold air. I had never seen anything so beautiful. 

“All of our worlds have changed” she said softly. Her hollow voice pulled my gaze back to her. I felt my body’s longing again, pulse hot through me since Ez had walked away. I was used to disciplining those feelings away, to waiting until she decided it was my time. But I felt longing, as if I had been waiting my entire life. “There is only earth now, and we do not fall or rise. There is the City, and there is this. And can this really sustain what you attempt to create with your halflings and your dreams?”

“We…” My mouth was dry. “We hardly have the chance to fail when you destroy us with hoofbeats each time a settlement takes root.”

She touched my face, and I shivered. Her skin was cold, like a dead thing. “And once we deviate from that course, you let us waste away rather than change with you.

I gasped as I pulled away. I wanted water; I wanted to wake up and find myself back at my patrol where the world was raw and unforgiving, where I was drawn to nothing but staying alive. What she suggested was more complicated that what I knew. Angels acted at the reach of an unseen hand, stronger and more unforgiving than the world we survived in. The hierarchies that allowed us to survive built themselves upon that.

“We can no longer fall; we roam, like you. But unlike you, we cannot create. We were created to serve, and if we leave that service now, we have only loneliness.”

I clenched my fists. Angels fell or they fought; that is what we knew. But this…a Whisperer who was not here to whisper. If there were more, we could thrive. We could hope. I understood that she asked me to let her survive so we could do more than that. She asked me to let us begin living. 

And when I saw that, I felt longing like I had felt nothing else. I wanted to touch her face, to feel her skin grow warm under my hands. I wanted the release I had been denied and the release I had never felt, and my body was all I had to give. I wanted to love.

But I stepped back, shaking my head, knowing what she asked and what I had been ordered. What I wanted would make starvation and death harder to face. It would make each feather that fell from her wings cut my heart as it fell. Because she would not survive. I had no power over that.

“Go back to your horsemen, Whisperer,” I said, my voice rasping in my own ears. 

I stumbled through the corridor, and my feet pushed me out, back into the noise and smoke before my mind caught up. I shoved my way through to the dais, where Gremory laughed without noticing me.

“I want release,” I said. And the noise slowly died away. Gremory turned to me slowly. He raised his thick eyebrows and leaned forward slowly, his chair creaking. 

“You want…release?” His voice was low, but the force underneath it would frighten even the oldest demon. “Are you afraid, girl? Are you afraid of pretty wings and cold hands?” He stood and slowly stepped down. “Are you so _ungrateful_?”

I shook my head. I ached with loneliness like nothing I had ever felt. “I want release.”

When he touched my face with his great hand, claws sprouting from it, I gasped. And as I fell, my senses dulling with sleep creeping upon me, I saw the Whisperer’s smiling face before the first feather dropped.


End file.
